


Need

by archi, Arisprite



Series: By Grace, We Are Saved [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Emotional manipulation to incite rage, Fighting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Like seriously turn back now, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archi/pseuds/archi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A split second of stillness, until Cas’ face contorted, all the anger spilling over his features and into his body then Cas shoved himself into Dean, knocking them both to the ground. Dean grunted as his back hit the ground, hard, sharp pebbles and errant twigs stabbing into his back, but he wrestled back. He couldn’t stop pushing, couldn't let Cas lose his momentum.</p><p>Note: <b>This verse reads as one continuous story</b> Some sections overlap as told from different pov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> ***we added a part _before_ this one called "Incessant" but it got posted after this one had already gone up. If you missed it, please go hit it up! It does a good job setting up for "Need"

He couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t eat or focus on anything except Charlie’s promise that she’d get Cas to the bunker.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that his phone buzzed, a quick text saying that Charlie was on her way with Cas, but not to get his hopes up.

Dean cocked an eyebrow ruefully at the text. He wondered what exactly Charlie had in mind when she imagined he and Cas sorting out their issues. Whatever happened, it was likely to make her scenario look like a tea party.

Cas wouldn’t say anything of value when he was calm, collected - when he had the presence of mind to put on a mask and answer in clipped, polite, responses.

No, it would have to be messy.

Dean spent the twenty intervening minutes outside, sitting on Baby’s hood and trying to collect himself, wishing he could just have a damn beer. A slow, burning pressure had gathered in his chest and behind his ears and he didn’t like this. Not at all. He was centering himself like he did before a hunt, before a fight. He shook his head and breathed deeply, trying to keep his defenses down. Nothing was going to get resolved if he was guarded.

In and out, he lost himself in the rhythm, staring at the cut-out shapes of branches against the afternoon sky. He pulled his lips in and let the lower one out slowly through his teeth. His lungs felt too small and the fringes of his concentration were dipped in weariness.

He worked his lip between his teeth again, _Cas. Cas is alive. You wanted so damn bad to fix it, well here he is. Fix it._

He heard the whirring of a small engine down the road and took another fortifying breath, then turned. Sure enough, the yellow Rabbit was there, the front lights blinking off and the passenger door opening.

Cas...

He didn’t look happy...the coward in Dean began to question the intellectual integrity of his plan as Cas closed the door and walked resolutely toward him. A little _too_ resolutely, actually. His gaze was steady but his eyes were underlined with bags and and he didn’t look like he’d fully woken up yet - tired _and_ pissed. Marvelous.

Cas met his gaze and Dean focused on not reacting - on keeping his features relaxed and unmoving. His posture was easy and open, shoulders back, feet planted but not defensively...Cas’ eyes narrowed and something like fear curled in Dean’s veins and made his fingers itch. He felt naked without his usual arsenal, strapped and tucked against him reassuringly, but he had to be unarmed, had to poke and prod with words to get the responses he needed - the ones Cas needed to stop hiding.

It was an awkward distance from the car, but Cas didn’t seem to mind, focusing on Dean and maybe it was awkward because it was taking too long but at the same time Cas got bigger and bigger too quickly, striding with surety while Charlie half-jogged behind him.

When they were close enough that Dean knew they could see his face, he winked at Charlie, smirked at Cas, and threw out a lazy, “Howdy,” to fill the space between them.

“You are infuriating,” Cas said, his voice gruff and clipped.

“Well hello to you too. How are you, Charlie?”

She stared at him like he was insane, fingers twisting around the strap of her bag, “I’m, uh...good, I guess...?”

“Why don’t you go inside - there should be some leftover lunch and it was pretty damn good if I do say so myself.”

“I...uh...are you sure?” She looked between him and Cas, as if waiting for the latter to give other instruction. When none was offered she inhaled, looked around, “Okay...I guess. I’ll be inside...if you need me...” she ducked between them, then nearly tripped over her own feet glancing back at them. Dean just smiled until she had latched the bunker door, and then he turned to Cas again - who, it seemed, felt like having a staring contest.

“Hey Cas,” he threw on a shit-eating-grin. Cas didn’t look overly amused.

“Why are you doing this?”

Everything in Dean ached to be honest - to just _say_ everything he’d come to realize, to hug the stupid bastard and pretend like they hadn’t gutted each other time and time again. But Cas wouldn’t listen when he was like this and he wouldn’t have come unless he felt like he had no other choice.

Cas couldn’t hear him right now - he had his walls up ten miles high and Dean had to make him come out - get him riled up enough to...well. He just prayed he was right about this.

“Someone had to light the fire under your ass,” he said smoothly, “I know how you work - If at first you don’t succeed - go hide under a rock because it’s easier, huh?”

“What are you talking about?” Cas’ eyes narrowed but he shifted, fingers twitching. A bit more color seeped into his face and Dean had to suppress a smirk.

“I’m talking about you beaming up when you don’t want to deal with shit.” Cas’ gaze dropped for a moment and Dean raised his arms to either side. He was posturing and it felt ridiculous, but he pushed as much belligerence into his voice as he could, “Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t waiting in the kitchen with dinner cooked but you were _dead_. I _lost_ you and you expected me to be fine - like that?” he snapped his fingers and Cas flinched, “I know humanity is new to you, but c’mon, Cas. That’s just vain...”

Cas’ nostrils flared and his legs jolted, like he wanted to advance but stopped himself. “I wasn’t expecting a welcome, but you didn’t even _look at me, Dean,” he spat._

“Yeah and you popped out of friggin’ _Purgatory_ into my _bathroom_ with a _‘Hello, Dean_ ’” he imitated Cas’ gruff voice mockingly, “I guess neither of us are very suave, so what are you gonna do about it? Just run the first time it doesn’t go your way, right? Real mature.”

Cas turned abruptly and started walking. Dean was about to follow when Cas changed direction back towards Dean, staring at the ground, until, fists clenched, he came up to Dean and stopped. They stared at one another for a few moments, Dean glanced down to Cas’ fists, then back to his face. His jaw worked over words he couldn’t seem to get out, when his expression fell, and he shrugged “I don’t know what to do here, Dean. I don’t know what you want from me. I nearly _died_. I _fell_. I’ve lost everything I am, and you’re acting like I did it to personally offend you.”

Ohh, there was that anger back again. Dean focused on it, wet his lips and pushed the urge to comfort, to explain, down and rolled his eyes.

“I’ve been telling you, man. I’ve come out and said it clear as a bell and you can’t hear a damn word over your own self-righteousness!” he pushed into Cas’ personal space and watched his nostrils flare again, “I don’t want your angel crap, or your help - I just want you to stick around and stop this whole dropping in when it’s convenient for you shit!”

“When it’s convenient?” Cas laughed, bitter and scoffing and a thrill of fear ran through Deab. “I fought to be by your side in when the war in Heaven was tearing _my_ family apart. I listened to your prayers in Purgatory, but I _had_ to stay clear to keep you safe. Don’t you think I wanted to stay? And you should have known better - once I joined you the Leviathan were after us constantly - it was common sense, Dean! I was trying to protect you!” his features were twitching, and then his eyes flew open wide, pained, then angry, his voice rising to a yell, “Naomi was _in my head_ , Dean, and she still had to _tear_ me from you. So don’t you _dare_ presume to say that!”

Dean didn’t have to pretend to be angry now, “So tell us, dammit! Tell me so I’m not walking around wondering if you’re dead, sending up prayers when I’ve got no clue if you’re listening or even _alive_!”

Cas turned around, but Dean wasn’t going to give up easily. He walked around Cas until he could grab the front of his sweatshirt and tugged it. Cas didn’t fight back and allowed himself to turn, meeting Dean’s searching gaze with his own, angry and helpless and confused, “I always listened Dean. Even when I was with Naomi, I heard you.”

“So why didn’t you come?” Dean spat.

“Were you not listening, Dean?” Cas’ voice rose again, “I was a prisoner, being tortured, and reprogrammed and having my mind _ripped_ into - forced to do things -” His jaw jutted out and he was breathing heavily, “...I had to _kill_ you, Dean!”

Dean snorted, “Yeah I remember that part, Cas. Good times.”

“No, Dean. That was only the last time - the _only_ time - I managed to stop myself.”

Cas was deflating and a panic curled at Dean’s stomach. Cas wasn’t done. Couldn’t be anywhere near done. He stomped down his concern and raised an eyebrow, keeping his voice dry.

“Is this 50 First Dates or what? Because I have no clue what the hell you’re talking about.”

Cas’ gaze shot to him, sharp and wild, “A thousand times, I _slaughtered_ you.”

Dean was taken aback, but Cas didn’t need goading to continue; “Naomi made facsimiles of you and sent me after them, and each time, I killed them, Dean. Every single one. Over and over and over again until I didn’t even _think_ anymore. I didn’t _hesitate_.” his voice was dangerous and rising, but Dean held his ground, trying to simultaneously process this new information and figure out how to keep Cas talking, “I _killed_ you, again and again, and I will never stop seeing your blood on my blade, Dean. Never!”

Dean fought the urge to step back, to put his hands on his knees and double over and breath until his heart rate went down. But he stood his ground, cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “Never? Really? Join the club.” Cas looked floored. Clearly he’d expected his announcement to have more of an effect, and oh, it had. But Dean stared at him and continued, voice dry.

“I know how to kill and how to hurt in every way - Except I didn’t have as pretty of an excuse as you - nobody screwing with my head, just me and Alistair and the rack and _real_ victims. You think I don’t remember? I do. I still have the nightmares and I still hear the screams but when some sadistic power gives you another chance - _whether you want it or not_ \- life goes on.”

Cas was looking away and Dean grabbed the front of the hoodie again, yanking at it. Cas glared at him, “You don’t let it stop you from living especially when I’m _right here_.” He cursed himself mentally - he’d meant to goad, to mock, but the instinct to reassure was hard wired and difficult to ignore.

“You weren’t yesterday,” Cas said evenly, bitterly.

So Dean grabbed another fist of hoodie and shoved.

“What the hell is so hard for you to understand about this? You. Were. _Dead_.” He advanced to where Cas had staggered back, pushing right up into Cas’ face and relinquishing control over his own expression, “I _mourned_ you. Cried like a little _shit_ and prayed even though the line was disconnected and sat down and tried to think what the hell to do with myself - what was I supposed to do, Cas? ...What was I supposed to do?”

Cas had swiped at his hands and staggered back like a scared animal.

“I don’t know,” he said, gasping slightly, “I’m sorry. I woke up in that hospital, and I just...couldn’t face it.”

“What, Cas? Face what?” Dean’s throat was constricting because dammit he wanted this answer, badly. “Me?”

Cas threw his arms out wildly, “Everything! This new human life that I now have to live. I was hurting, I was powerless, and just so much... _less_ than I’d ever been, and then I think about you, and how I’d left you _again_ , and I just couldn’t face it, Dean. I couldn’t.”

Hot tears pricked at Dean’s eyes and he clenched his teeth to stop his chin trembling, “So you play dead?” he pushed out angrily, “Muzzle the people that I care about? I could have been _there_ for you. I could have helped. I could have... Do you have any - _any_ \- idea how much it hurts? The repetition doesn’t make it easier, Cas!”

Cas strode back up to Dean, eyes narrowed again, “You lost me, fine. I lost _everything_ I _was_. Forgive me if I needed a little more than a day to adjust to that. I _Fell_. I’m now stuck as a human, living a pathetic human life. Imagine your body, your senses, your thoughts - imagine ripping those in two and the comparison still pales to the reality of my situation!”

Dean ignored the pressure building in his chest and pushed back, “Boo Friggin hoo Cas! I’m sorry that you _survived_ your kamikaze mission! Real bummer there! Sorry for your second chance at life - Oh, but it’s not good enough for you is it?” he taunted, “We’re not good enough? Us little mud-monkeys, sitting down here in our own swill.”

Dean laughed humorlessly, feeling sick, “Your so-called love of humanity only in effect as long as you’ve got mojo on us? Are we just pets, Cas? Is that what I am? Your lap dog? Supposed to wait at home nicely until you feel like walking through the door?”

Cas shoved Dean, hard. “I _killed_ myself for humanity!” he yelled.

Dean staggered to a stop and then pushed down on his heels, propelling himself back to Cas. Arms held out to either side, inviting a hit, “No you didn’t! You’re about as good at dying as the rest of us so get off your damn high horse! Sacrificing yourself for the world is par for the course around here!”

“It’s never going to be enough for you, is it?” Cas was practically snarling, and if he came any closer Dean would go cross-eyed. “I can _never_ do enough to redeem myself in your eyes. I can’t even _die_ for you, without you arguing.”

“It’s not about redeeming yourself, you stupid son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, right into Cas’ face, “It’s about moving on -”

“To what?” Cas’ voice broke a bit, but didn’t stop, “I know shit about being a human, I am _useless_ like this. You say it’s not about redeeming yourself, but what am I supposed to do now? _Hunt_? I tried that when I still could at least help with my powers, and it was still a pathetic attempt. Now...”

Something in Cas’ posture sent a chill through Dean’s entire body. Cas, slumped and apathetic and lost seemed all at once too similar to the alternate future version of Cas he’d seen in Zachariah’s sick mind game. Year 2014: Cas drowned in drugs and sex because he’d lost everything and Dean - the other Dean - lost in his own anger and grief at Sam - had ignored it, let his only friend slip and slide away, barely a shadow on his radar. His throat was all the sudden too tight, he didn’t remember what he was trying to accomplish, only that this - _this_ -

_No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up... here._

No. He wanted to gather Cas in, hold him to his chest and apologize, reassure him. But he couldn't. Not yet. Not before Cas had let go of everything that boiled so near the surface of his newly human skin. He didn’t know where they’d be at the end of this - only that Cas needed to let go of the guilt and anger that he tried so hard to keep down. He steadied himself with a shaky breath, pulled indifference over his face and opened his mouth.

“Welcome to humanity!” he shrugged, “I like to think you’re not a total waste of space without powers but I’ve been wrong before.”

Cas’ head dropped and he shook it, his voice emerging fractured and hopeless, “I was supposed to die. It was supposed to have been enough, and now I’ve got just a short human life to repent, and... _try_ to fix this. I deserved to die, not this half second chance that I have no hope of fulfilling!”

Dean clenched his fist, stifled the last protest swimming through his mind and gritted his teeth, lifting his chin and smoothing his face over with indifference.

“Exactly. You’ll never be able to make up for the shit you pulled, Cas. So get the hell over it.”

Cas didn’t look up right away, but his chest began to expand and contract, heavy, forced breaths coming out his nose, and when he raised his head slowly it was like a bull about to charge. All the rage was boiling just behind his eyes and Dean, against every instinct that told him to run, raised an eyebrow challengingly.

A split second of stillness, until Cas’ face contorted, all the anger spilling over his features and into his body then Cas shoved himself into Dean, knocking them both to the ground. Dean grunted as his back hit the ground, hard, sharp pebbles and errant twigs stabbing into his back, but he wrestled back. He couldn’t stop pushing, couldn't let Cas lose his momentum.

Cas shoved Dean’s hands away and pushed him back into the ground, one hand on his shoulder. He wound his other arm back and Dean forced himself to relax as the hit came.

Another and another - Dean took them until he felt Cas’ muscles relax - like he was losing his nerve. Dean heaved himself up and pretended to try to knock Cas off of him. Cas’ legs flexed at his sides again and two hands fisted at his collar, dragging him up.

Dean looked into Cas’ eyes, feral and desperate, and maneuvered his right arm between Cas’ elbows, punching up hard into Cas’ jaw. Cas nearly _roared_ in anger, releasing one side of Dean’s collar to punch him again.

Dean shoved him off in earnest this time - Cas was mad enough to charge again and he wanted a better footing. He scrambled to his feet, spitting out blood and glaring at Cas, daring him to try again.

Cas gave a half-step towards Dean, faking for his right before hitting him hard in his left side - first a punch, then a sharp hit with the edge of his hand that knocked the wind out of Dean and made him stagger. He managed to throw a punch and Cas’ head and nose, but was about to fall, until Cas caught him by the front of the shirt again.

Cas observed him for a few moments, victorious and wild and seething, then Dean felt Cas’ body begin to twist, faked an attempt to block the knee that connected with this stomach a moment later and doubled over with the force of the hit, gasping.

Cas was breathing hard and backing away, perhaps admiring his handiwork. Dean let out his own growl and ran forward, throwing out a fist which Cas didn’t quite manage to dodge. Cas spun and hit the ground with both hands, legs tangled, before getting back to his feet. Maybe he was pissed Dean had managed to get him, but a new fury seemed to spread through his posture as he wiped his bloody lip on his sleeve and _damn._

Cas strode forward again, confident and controlled and Dean backed up, trying to get his own footing. Cas grabbed his side and started pounding his own arm into Dean’s shoulder, close to his neck. Hunching, Dean pushed back on his heels, propelling them both several steps. Cas’ hand wound to his neck, shoving Dean away and Dean saw the fist coming, focused on letting it do it’s job...

His body fell back, he looked at the trees overhead as the ground got closer then arrived with a tremendous force against his side and back, legs and knees knocking together. He half-coughed, half-groaned and made to get back up but Cas was on top of him on the slope of the hill leading into the forest.

Once again he grabbed Dean’s clothing, the initial grip digging deep and scraping Dean’s clothes against his skin painfully before he was heaved up, then shoved down, his head hitting the ground hard and fists pressing hard into his chest - trying to push all the air out, to crush his lungs and heart and whatever else was in the way out of existence. He blinked, trying to orient his spinning head.

Cas was snarling above him, all heaving chest and white knuckled grip. A split lip and a bloody nose and bruise on his jaw, a line of blood peeking from his dark hair...and Cas was winning this. Dean didn’t bother thinking too hard about how he looked because Cas’ fist was winding back again.

_That’s right._

The fist hit him near his jaw and he was grateful for the slightly softer ground that his head was thrown back into.

Again. This one fell against the line of his cheekbone. and his vision went blurry for a few moments, coming back in time to see the fist that would connect closer to his nose

_C’mon Cas._

Again.

_Let it out, buddy._

Again

_Cas._

He lost track. Cas was on his own now, Dean couldn’t count or feel anything but being yanked up and thrown back over and over. He only heard the growling, snorting, seething, labored breaths coming fast from Cas and he was coughing and clamoring for breath until there was a glorious pause.

He peeled his swollen eyes open. Cas’ forearm shook trying to hold Dean up and his breath shuddered, feeling cold against the hot blood on dean’s face. His fist was half cocked, ready to take up and finish it’s course. Dean looked into Cas’ eyes, still wild, but searching.

Dean recovered himself enough to find his hands, reaching up to grab at Cas’ sleeves, feeling every ache and stab acutely.

He tried to talk but his throat was swollen and he choked on the word.

“Again...”

Cas didn’t respond, still huffing angrily out his nose, but his eyes narrowed.

Dean couldn’t hold out much longer but Cas was almost there - almost done...One more...one more should do it...

His hands shook against Cas’ elbows and he jerked, glaring at Cas with all the daring he could find in himself.

_Do it._

Cas' eyes narrowed. _Why?_

_Just do it._

_No._

_Coward._

Cas released his collar in favor of putting a hand to Dean’s neck, pressing with jerking fingers against his windpipe and under the line of his jaw. But after a moment it left, just before Cas’ other fist connected one last time with Dean’s face.

The blow twisted his upper body to his right, head then shoulders then back hitting the ground. He gasped, breathing in dirt and needles.

All at once Cas went limp. Dean felt the leg on his right lift off the ground, Cas beginning to roll off of Dean, but Dean drew his forearm in, hooking a few fingers behind Cas’ knee and pulling it back down to the ground.

Cas made a slight whimper. Dean turned his bruised neck carefully, looking up at him. He looked broken. Thoroughly and completely spent. His eyes weren’t wild anymore and he wasn’t looking at Dean, at anything, just _staring_ , crumbling.

Cas’ legs began to tremble and it spread, his body shaking everywhere Dean could feel. Relief and a sudden rush of protectiveness clashed violently and he gripped Cas’ thigh, reached up with his left hand, pulled the back of Cas’ head towards him and against his shoulder.

Cas’s chest began that strange forceful expanding and contracting again, pushing shuddering hot breaths that filtered through Dean’s shirt to the juncture of his neck.

The telltale gasp of impending tears pulled at his collarbone and his fingers gripped automatically, his eyes shutting as swallowed his own gasp, tried to stop his own tears.

One of Cas’ arms, caught between them, convulsed around a handful of Dean’s shirt. The other had found purchase on Dean’s shoulder, and gripped tighter as a long, strained breath was pulled from Cas.

Then he let go.

Cas shook and heaved and choked on his own gasping. Dean’s shoulder was hot and wet in minutes, and no matter how hard he bit his lip, his own tears pushed out and he gasped. They ran burning from his eyes, along his cheekbone and dipped into his ears, seeping into open cuts and stinging along the way. And they kept coming, hot and silent. He tried to breathe evenly, tried to coax Cas through the racking, trembling motions of falling apart gently.

“It’s okay, Cas. I’ve got you,” his voice shook a bit and he thought Cas’ hand’s tightened in his clothes. “That’s it...I’m sorry, Cas...I’m so sorry.”

Cas continued shaking and sobbing against him, burrowing into his neck and leaving hot wet streaks with damp puffs of air that landed right at the base of Dean’s throat and made him want to pull Cas in tighter. But he didn’t know how to do that without Cas suffocating so he kept his mouth going, whispering anything that came to mind, letting his own tears find different paths over his face, soaking into fresh cuts and stinging like hell.

Slowly, so slowly, the shaking subsided to trembles and half-hearted jerks. Cas’ breath evened out, still labored and heavy, but regularly timed and free of racking gasps and sobs. A sizeable portion of Dean’s shirt over his collarbone and his neck was damp and felt cold where Cas wasn’t breathing into it.

Cas wasn’t even trying to support himself, his full weight slumping into Dean’s torso. It was oddly comforting. Cas turned in to breath easier, his forehead pressed into Dean’s jaw.

Dean didn’t know what to say, honestly. Sure he could toss out a half-assed remark or even ask how Cas was, but neither of them needed Cas to say it - and he doubted Cas could even _answer_ right now.

He took another shallow breath, turned and pressed his lips to Cas’ forehead, then let his head fall back. His fingers still held just above Cas’ left knee, more for his own sake than because he thought Cas might move, the other hand carding through Cas hair slowly.

They stayed like that for a long time, silently. Dean could almost feel Cas’ heartbeat, and knew Cas could feel his because he was breathing in time to it.

He knew this wasn’t over. Cas still needed gentle prodding, still needed to talk, needed Dean to listen. And Dean needed that too. Need to be able to say the things he couldn’t when he was trying to start a fight. He wanted to resurrect every thought he’d trampled down, to know that Cas heard and understood...maybe they could get on the same page.

A glimpse of fear blinked through him. Cas might decide to leave anyway. Leave without understanding, without hearing Dean out or finally explaining his own struggles... He swallowed the thought down painfully, holding Cas just a little tighter.

Later...later he’d worry.

Not yet.


End file.
